Don’t Call It ‘Frisco

I’ll make this brief, folks. While writing my last post, I realized that I’m a day behind, and if I don’t write something about yesterday now, I’ll be two days behind!

Saturday morning, my dad and I said goodbye to our cousin and left Chico for the Bay Area once again. The trip itself was fairly uneventful, although my dad’s 20-year-old Honda Accord (which has been broken into about 7 times and been stolen at least twice) was giving my dad some grief because he couldn’t turn the key properly every time he started the vehicle. I would tell him to sell the POS, but he has so much emotional and financial investment in the old girl that the only way he’ll get rid of her is if it gets smashed beyond recognition.

Dad dropped me off at the rental car place at the airport, and we said our goodbyes because tomorrow he is off to hike the John Muir Trail for a month. He tried to hike it by himself a few years ago but a series of unfortunate events kept him from finishing the journey, so he’s back this year, this time with friends, and he’s very excited about fulfilling this life-long dream.

I got my rental car and made my way through traffic to my best friend Terry’s house, who graciously agreed to host me during the rest of my time in San Francisco (actually, I think it’s a requirement that I stay at her place whenever I visit, but that’s neither here nor there, because I always love staying with her). Her daughter, Camille (who was one of my flower girls in my wedding), just turned 7 years old, and they were all at a bowling alley with the kids when I got to her house.

Three Killing MachinesI was greeted at the door by three noisy mini pinschers, all of whom thought I was a terrible threat, and all of whom also thought they were six-foot tall deadly killing machines. The only way they could have really harmed me, though, is by blowing out my eardrums with their high-pitched barking, especially when the barks bounced off the hardwood floors and cabinets in the kitchen. I sat down in the living room to muffle the sound, and they finally decided I was OK after they were able to sniff me and jump onto my lap.

Camille's Birthday DressThe family arrived shortly afterward, and we went out to dinner at Camille’s favorite restaurant, Olive Garden. She insisted on changing into her birthday dress (which she had just received a few hours before), and she made the rest of us feel like we were the underdressed entourage, which I suppose we were.

After dinner, I was so tired that I went to bed almost immediately after we got back. I’m still a little jetlagged, I think.

Where Everybody Knows Your Name

Friday in Chico turned out to be all about the performing arts for me. My cousin is pretty active in the local drama groups, and he acts and directs a number of shows each year. He invited a few actors over to his house to read through the first act of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, which one of the community theaters was going to perform for a fundraiser. He hadn’t been able to find anyone to read the part of Honey, so he asked me if I’d like to do it. “Sure,” I replied.

The actors came over, and we all sat around the dining room table with our scripts, munching on some fruit and reading through the play. When we were done, my cousin (who will be directing the show) joked that the first rehearsal will be in New Jersey, because they need to cast me in the role. All the other actors agreed, which was very flattering, since I haven’t been in a play in a very, very long time! As they left, they all promised to come to the bar that night for the show my cousin was putting together.

Duffy's TavernAs I mentioned in my previous post, my cousin owns a bar in downtown Chico. It’s a small town, so pretty much everyone knows who he is, and anyone who doesn’t know him personally definitely knows Duffy’s Tavern.

Since he owns the place, he was able to bump the Irish band that usually plays there on Friday nights in favor of putting his two cousins (and himself) on the stage. He made a few phone calls to put together an impromptu band, then invited the cast of a show he is in (Go-Go, a British Invasion musical) to perform some of the songs from the show. He sent out a huge email blast, and we were all set to perform during happy hour.

My dad and I leafed through his Fake Book to find some appropriate songs to perform. I decided on “I Get A Kick Out Of You,” my dad picked some songs too, and we sent the lead sheets to the band leader so he could take a look at it before the gig.

When we got to the bar at 4:00, the place was pretty empty. The band leader was setting up the stage, and a long-haired blond kid named Loki (I kid you not, that is his name) was tuning his guitar as well. Loki hugged my cousin and stared at me like he was seeing an angel. I felt slightly creeped out, but decided not to mention anything because he seemed pretty harmless (I found out later that he had dropped acid that afternoon and was tripping the entire night, which explains a lot).

I looked around asked where the drums and keyboards were, and I was told that my cousin couldn’t get anyone on drums or keyboards at such short notice, so we were stuck with three guitars (another guitarist showed up a few minutes later) and no microphones. I wasn’t too concerned about the lack of mics for me in such a small room — I can make a big sound when I want to — but acoustic guitars are quiet instruments by nature, and I was worried no one would really be able to hear the chords under the melody.

But we had to make do with what we had, so the guitars started playing, and then they invited different people to come up and sing: Samantha, a talented belter in the cast of Go-Go; Kelly, a friendly bass (also in the cast of Go-Go); my dad; me; and my cousin. I only had the one song, whereas everyone else had two or three. I guess I probably could have prepared more songs, but I didn’t know what the scene would be like, and doing jazz (especially with my jazz trumpeter dad) always makes me a little shy and self-conscious.

It’s a good thing that I sang in the first set, because after 5:00, the bar started getting really crowded and loud. My dad sang another song and played his trumpet and flugelhorn while Kelly sang a few numbers. My cousin got up with the cast of Go-Go and started singing songs from the show. As the crowd got louder and louder, the singers couldn’t hear the guitars hardly at all, and everyone was trying to belt really loudly to be heard over the din of the bar. My cousin got the bright idea of getting the audience to sing along, which worked quite well, although the guitars were still inaudible. But everyone was having a great time, and that’s what counts.

Happy Hour was over at 7:00, and my dad and I went back to the house, leaving my cousin to chat with his customers. When my cousin came back home, we all ordered Chinese food and hunkered down with a movie for our final evening in Chico.